The Many Worlds and Stories of Dragon Age
by SpartanGamer2013
Summary: A series of one-shots within the Dragon Age universe.


**The Moment of a Lifetime**

 _Ambrose Hawke/Merrill_

 _SPLOOSH!_

Another arrow wedged itself into the neck of another unlucky bandit. The Champion of Kirkwall remained in the shadows as he gripped the Bassrath-Kita longbow, watching the group of bandits with a cold stare. The guards were keeping them distracted, led by the Guard Captain Aveline, which made the game even more fun. They knew to expect his arrows, but they didn't know where or when. At least, for most of his fights, he thought of it as a fun game. Tonight, while he felt a twinge of excitement, his mind was elsewhere.

He immediately fired another arrow that brought down another bandit, just as Varric fired his own arrow into one. "That's one more for me! How many have you got, Hawke?" He called out with the familiar smirk appearing on his face.

His own lips twitched upward, but only by an inch. "One more than you!" He called out, before he leapt out of the shadows and threw his dagger toward another bandit. As he landed on the ground, he quickly turned and fired another arrow. "Scratch that, make it _three_ more!"

"You're just showing off now!" He laughed. "You're going to hurt Bianca's feelings!"

"Well she can deal with it! Now just focus!"

"Aw, just lighten up killer!" He laughed as he aimed for another shot. "Just because you are on-"

"Ambrose behind you!"

Ambrose didn't move when he heard Aveline's warning. _Do they really think that sneaking up behind_ me _is going to work?_ He mentally scoffed and closed his eyes. _I need to finish this quickly…_ Suddenly, wisps of smoke shrouded around him. A clanging sound of the sword against the stone ground echoed in the alleyway. A replica of Ambrose landed on the ground in front of him, with a blank stare in his eyes. The bandit looked around while his feet moved him backwards. The replica already disappeared, and once more, there was no sign on the champion. Beads of sweat slid down the bandit's forehead; he looked everywhere, but he couldn't find him.

 _SPLOOSH!_

It took a few seconds for the bandit to collapse. An arrow embedded itself into the back of his head while Ambrose stepped out of the shadow. He glanced at the dead bodies, but he didn't let down his guard. He had faced bandits for years and there was always another wave. They would come from the shadows, after their comrades died, and attack them at their weakened states. It always failed, but they always stuck to the plan. He wondered why they never thought of a different plan, especially when they came to face him and his friends. Right now, especially, he wasn't in the mood to die or play around too much with them. He did it as a favor for Aveline and it was finished.

He released a short breath and closed his eyes before he turned on his heel to begin walking.

"Ambrose-"

"I don't have time for this, Aveline!" He cut her off. His pace began to pick up with only one destination in mind: home.

As he walked away from the bloodied fight, Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why do I even bother sometimes…" She mumbled under her breath.

Varric snickered, wiping some blood off of his crossbow. "Aveline, you should know why he isn't in the mood for this…I wouldn't take it personally!"

"It would just be nice if he would help clean up the mess! Wasn't that why we agreed to do this…to keep him occupied?" She glanced at him with an arched eyebrow. She was exhausted, but she was able to mask it well.

He gave a shrug. "We took down four groups of bandits tonight. Add in the times between to find them AND taking him to the Hanged Man before the search began…I say enough time passed." With that, he placed Bianca onto his back and followed after Ambrose. "Come on, Aveline, I think your guards can handle this!"

She sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head. After she nodded at her guards, who saluted her, she hurried after the dwarf.

* * *

Ambrose reached the estate and immediately opened the door. Sandal greeted him and quickly took the bow and arrow he dropped to the ground. He silently thanked the child-like dwarf before he looked up. Sebastian Vael paced the main room, mumbling a prayer quietly, while Fenris leaned against the wall, almost like a statue. When they heard him come in they quickly looked up.

"Anything?" He quickly asked.

The elf shook his head. "Nothing yet."

"Bodahn has stepped out several times, but he said nothing to us." Sebastian said before he sat down on a chair. "How did your search go?"

"…Found four bandit groups and took them out." He simply said. He rubbed his shaven red hair while he looked up at the upstairs bedroom—his and Merrill's bedroom. He sighed calmly and began to pace in the room. "I would've thought…"

He shook his head. _No of course not._ He answered his own train of thought. Impatience rose up inside him, but worry mixed with it. It was like a sickness, and it stuck with him. When he searched for the bandits with Aveline and Varric, he was able to mask it with his intent to kill them. Now, there was nothing to occupy his mind; all he could think was Merrill and the situation at hand. His mind wandered to his father and wondered if he felt as helpless as he did right now. That was one thing Ambrose hated the most: feeling helpless.

Suddenly, a scream pierced the silence. He hastily looked up as he felt himself hold his breath. "Maker's breath…" He grumbled, sighing shakily.

"Come on Merrill, another push, you're almost there!"

Another scream came forth.

Ambrose rubbed his head once more. He began to pace the room once more, ignoring the stares from his friends. "…Looks like you need to hunt down some more bandits…or slavers." Fenris mused.

"I'm not going anywhere this time." He said shortly. He flexed his fingers as he breathed in heavily.

Sebastian stood up as he carefully said, "Yes, but Ambrose…you're not doing yourself any good by worrying yourself. Perhaps if you went out to the Chantry or-"

"No."

"Choir Boy, elf, killer isn't going anywhere." Varric joked, walking inside with Aveline behind him. "Aveline and I already tried to keep him out of here. If you two want to try next, be my guess!"

Ambrose rolled his eyes. He chose to ignore them and kept looking up the stairs. "…What is taking so long…?" He mumbled. "Surely this would…"

Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn to look at Aveline. Despite his blunt ways of antagonizing her, she seemed to stick around to watch over him. A role she chose to take ever since she joined him and his family to Kirkwall. There was warmth in her green eyes, when she said, "Merrill is alright, Ambrose. She is strong…she'll get through this. You just need to have patience."

"…Patience…never had been my strong suit." He grunted. His gaze lowered to the ground, but he didn't push her hand away. Oddly enough, her hand brought comfort to him.

"One more!"

Another scream made him look back up, but another sound froze him to his spot. It was the sound of an infant's cry. It was small, but it was still strong. His eyes widened, and his mouth went dry. He felt a clap against his leg, followed by a laugh. "Congratulations, killer!" Varric exclaimed.

"The Maker brought another life into the world…" Sebastian smiled before he turned to Ambrose. "You and Merrill will be great parents!"

Fenris said nothing, but he nodded at the champion.

Aveline smirked slightly before she nudged him forward. "Go see your child, _father_." She teased.

He cast a look, but he nodded and began to make his way up the stairs. When he reached the top, the door opened and Bodahn stepped out. He noticed Ambrose and smiled brightly. "Ah, mesere! I was just about to get you!" He hastily moved out of the way. "Mistress Merrill is doing well…and so is the little one!"

He nodded, gulping slightly to parch his throat, and made his way inside. As soon as he stepped in, he froze once more. Twice in one day…he certainly wasn't himself. However, he had good reason for it. He couldn't remove his eyes from Anders, who had his back toward him. He could see the healer clean off a small infant, who was still wailing. A healthy, fair-skinned child… _his_ child. He opened his mouth; no words came out or form on his tongue. So, he closed his mouth and forced himself to step forward.

Anders heard him and turned to face him. A slim smile formed on his face before he wrapped the baby in a fresh blanket and stepped forward. "Congratulations, Ambrose." He said, handing the child to Ambrose. "You have a son…"

Carefully, the champion took him into his arms and stare at him. "…Son…" He breathed out. Immediately, every negative feeling inside washed away. Pride and love replaced it in full force as he stared at his son's face. The baby looked up with hazel eyes—just like his mother. A broad smile graced over Ambrose's face, and his posture relaxed. He rocked him slightly before he looked up. "Merrill…"

Anders said nothing else and picked up the bloodied towels. "I'll leave you two alone…"

The door shut, leaving the new family alone. The champion turned his gaze toward the elven woman, who laid quietly in the bed. He walked toward her and sat down next to her, saying, "Hey there, daisy."

She smiled tiredly, even more at the affectionate nickname both he and Varric loved to call her. "I don't think I'm a flower right now…" She joked, her eyes half-open. Then, she looked at the baby and smiled more. "Our son…it looks like I did something right for a change…"

"One of the many." He corrected, before he gently placed their son into her arms. "I'm proud of you." He kissed her temple. He moved beside her and placed his arm around her shoulders. "He looks like you."

"…Well…minus the pointed ears. I think he looks more like you." She rubbed his bald head and planted a kiss. "Ambrose…we…we have a son." Both of them looked at each other. His smile widened as he leaned forward to press his lips against hers. She returned the kiss swiftly and backed away. With her son close to her, she leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes. Softly, she asked, "What name do you have…?"

Ambrose remained silent. He gazed calmly at his wife and son, keeping them close to him. This was his family…his new family. His father had died years before the Blight, and his younger brother died when they tried to escape. He tried so hard to protect Bethany and their mother, but then Bethany had to join the Grey Wardens to save her own life. It was all due to his choice to let her join him in the Deep Roads. A choice he deeply regretted. Then, prior to the Qunari Invasion, his mother was killed by a blood mage. He had failed his family in many ways, but now, he had a chance to make things right. He was going to make up for what he did, and he was going to do good as his father had done.

With a finger in front of the baby, who grasped it firmly, he finally spoke the words he would remember in this monumental moment of his life…

"Malcolm…after my father. Malcolm Hawke."

* * *

 **I am trying to get myself in the swing of writing, and I have been a fan of Dragon Age for quite some time. So, I am thinking of writing different one-shots of different worlds I created. For this one, as you can tell, Ambrose Hawke is aggressive, and he also send Isabela with the Arishok...hence her lack of appearance. He's just not a very forgiving person, but I have always been intrigued with making the aggressve Hawke very protective, something I always imagined.**

 **See you next time! I plan to write a F!Amell/Zevran next!**

 **God Bless!**


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